Sword of Memories
by SeascapeMural
Summary: "Sky-child..." As the word passed through his mind, he was sucked into the world of his memories. Staring at the boy had awakened things he would rather leave alone, and so he drew aside from the physical world and sought the relief of his own decaying mind, hopefully away from thoughts of sky-children and their kind...
1. Dormant

**One day, I wondered what happened when Ghirahim disappeared from Demise's grasp. And then this happened. I hope you enjoy it!**

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With a roar, the Demon King attacked, sending the sky child reeling backward. The human – Link, Hylia's chosen hero – quickly recovered and swung his weapon mightily. The opponents' weapons met with a flash of sparks, tremors running up the hero's arm with the strain. If Ghirahim could have felt mirth in his current form, he would have cackled with glee at the sight of Link's weakness.

There was no way such a puny, insignificant human could defeat his master in battle. True, the sky child had thwarted Ghirahim at every twist and turn, time and time again, but it remained his opinion that the only reason the boy still stood was because of the sword in his hand. The master sword was a bane to all demons, and every time it had pierced the Demon Lord's skin, the touch had burned deep, scorching whatever had taken the place of a soul inside him. If he had ever possessed one.

Ghirahim was certain that his master had the skill to keep the master sword from harming him; he was not only Ghirahim's master, but a master of swordplay. The Demon King was also in possession of the greatest known demonic power, and the very antithesis of the master sword – the Demon Sword, Ghirahim. He was confident they would win.

But with each blow the human child dealt to his master, he began to doubt Demise's resolve, and eventually, his abilities. He felt the strength begin to ebb from the great demon's limbs until he was forced to using the power of lightning to fuel his assaults. This seemed to stymy Link for a few moments until he realized that he, too, could use lightning against his foe.

Ghirahim slowly retreated further and further within himself with each pulse of electricity that skittered across his glossy surface, watching with fascinated disgust as Demise fell before the hero of legend.

He could stand it no longer. Someone as weak as Demise was not fit to be his master, to wield him against the forces that sought to rid their kind from the face of the earth, if he could not destroy a single human child.

As he had so many times before, Ghirahim willed himself to disappear. An instant later, the great, black, diamond-shaped sword ceased to exist, leaving the Demon King defenseless save his own dwindling powers. The demon lord sought a place of solitude in an attempt to nurse his wounds, bringing with him the hope that, one day, someone would be strong enough to use him for what he had been created for – to destroy all that stood in opposition of his master.

* * *

The sword remained in this undisturbed place for several thousand years, always waiting for the strength of another to peak his interests. Many a time period, he felt flares similar to those of his original master, but he ignored them, remembering the betrayal from long ago.

An instance or two occurred when he would feel power from one had never met, but he found that time erased even the greatest of these forces, just like Demise's careful planning and rise to power. After, what was waiting a few hundred more years in comparison to how long he had already done so?

It was after a particular surge, full of darkness and creatures called 'twili,' that he began to realize that he could no longer remember his name. He had not been called anything in such a long time, had not heard the voice of another, neither within himself or outside in the physical world, that it no longer seemed feasible that he could be called _anything_. In truth, all signs of his existence had disappeared, and that of a Dark Master Sword, had been wiped from history, no doubt with the aid of the goddess.

This realization was met with a dull, completely ignorable throb of panic. He knew he should be more worried about something like this, but he could not find it within himself to care. It would be several more centuries before it dawned on him that his very consciousness was fading, just like his Master Sword counterpart those many eons ago, from the sword, slowly leaving behind a weapon of dark energies with no one to keep its power in check.

With the loss of his awareness also began the process of losing his memories. At first, it was nearly unnoticeable. He could not place a face with a name or vise verso, or he would forget the order of events in which occurrences had happened to him. But then huge portions of his personal history disappeared. How had he ended up in this sword state, for he clearly remembered once walking on his own two feet. Was he ever truly alive once, and was he so now? Could this even be called living?

He did not know, and could not remember.

There were things he did recall, and those few memories he clutched on to with all he had. He was afraid, with what was left of him that could feel, that he would lose everything that he once was, and he clung to the thought that these memories, ridiculous and trivial though they were, held some semblance of his original self.

There were flashes of a boy garbed in green, his bright blue eyes staring intently at the sword's forgotten form with rage, mild disgust, and faintly disguised hope. In another, ugly monsters scurried to execute his bidding, although he could no longer remember what he would have commanded such creatures to do. Images of a monster – his former master, he was sure of it – secretly meeting with a divinely beautiful woman, the goddess... Hylia... More held the monster's wrath and the woman's tears. _They were lovers once,_a fading thought provided helpfully. _Until they betrayed one another._

Despite these memories, the spirit in the sword was dying, and the only way he thought he would not: without a fight.

* * *

A traveling company was gathered around a fire one night, each telling stories of legends, rumors, anything to pass the time. The party had settled into camp with high spirits, but the conversation had taken a turn for the dreary a few hours past.

"...And then the 'ole family was cursed the be spiders, but not the tiny kind. They were huge, ugly critters, 'alf man and 'alf spiders, an' ye could hear 'em crying out fer 'elp from tha' creepy ol' 'ouse of theirs. An' they was stuck like tha' fer years..."

"But then the Hero of Time came, blah, blah, blah. That's boring." There was a round of agreement from the others gathered there. "What about one that doesn't have a happy ending? That hasn't been solved by the Hero of Time, or any other hero, for that matter?"

An older man, maybe around 50 years of age, scratched his beard in thought before snapping his fingers. "You hear the one about that place a little off from Kakariko? They been havin' some difficulties with some redeads. Not only that, but their own deads are givin' them trouble, too. They ain't stayin' dead. A kid was out late and had her little dog walk up to her for a petting. But that dog had been buried good for a few months." He paused for effect, glancing around the fire with satisfaction as he noted the eager eyes upon him. "They been callin' it the Cursed Grounds, they have. Crops've been dying, too. Nothin'll grow off that land but death itself."

The man raised his hands over his head for emphasis as he continued. "But they also been sayin' that there's an object of great power in the middle o' all this. That been causing this craziness. That whoever claims it will be the holder of great power."

A couple of the men chuckled and stood to return to their own little areas for sleep. "You had me until that last part, old man," one said. With that, they departed, leaving the storyteller, his wife, and a teenage boy still sitting by the light of the flames.

The boy watched them go, eyes darkening as he narrowed them at the retreating men's backs, before turning eagerly back to the man before him. The light reflected faintly off the dark blonde of his hair, making a few strands appear golden in hue, as he asked, "What's this object supposed to be?"

The man shrugged, the loss of his audience making him lose his motivation to continue. "I dunno. Something important, I reckon."

"How would you find it?"

He glanced sharply at the boy, in both annoyance and worry. "I dunno. Don't be gettin' any thoughts en yer head. 's just a story, yah hear? Nothin' more."

Disappointed, the boy nodded and retreated to his own bed, temporary as it was.

Come first light, the boy was gone, leaving behind merely an indentation in the ground where he had slept for those left to see, before they, too, moved on. Only one man wondered what had become of him, but he was soon forgotten between the blue of the skies and the changing of the land underfoot.

Two days later, a boy identical to the one last seen in the traveling company was witnessed passing through Kakariko Village. Strapped to his waist was an old, rusty, one-handed sword that he had, in all likelihood, found in a junk heap on his travels. Mothers shook their heads and told their children never to follow his example; on the path he had chosen, they guessed he would be dead in a matter of days. Not many found peace in the Cursed Grounds.

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**Thank you for reading! Please review, :3.**

**Love, SeascapeMural.**


	2. Discovered

The boy's hand hovered over the hilt of the sword at his hip as he stared pensively at a redead. He had heard stories of how the Hero of Time had frozen them with a song, but he had no musical instrument to speak of, let alone the knowledge of how to use one. Besides, even if he did, he had no clue as to what tune that would make them leave him alone. His only hope that they would not notice him, and if they did, that he could land a blow before they let out the piercing scream that froze any living creature in range.

He placed his foot an inch in the creatures line of vision, his movements painfully slow. Instantly, dead eyes focused on the appendage, and the boy came to a halt, staring up at the thing in fear. Sweat rolled down his back, and he was glad redeads did not have a sense of smell... or at least he assumed they didn't. He carefully withdrew, noting with relief that the creature resumed its earlier stance moments later.

That did it. He would have to find another way through, somewhere redeads didn't inhabit. If he could climb up a tree and hop along, there was a chance he could make it without them seeing him. However, trees and other signs of life had become far and few between the further he had gotten away from Kakariko. If he could somehow shut of his ability to hear for a short period of time, he was sure he could outrun the creatures' slow, lurching pace. Surely, after he got far enough away, they would give up...

With that thought in mind, he retreated to safety, glancing around occasionally for signs of trouble as he searched for something that would serve as earplugs. Lint was emptied from his pockets and a couple of items of food, a canteen, and a bottle with some leftover red potion from his pack.

None of these would do, unfortunately, so he stared contemplatively at his sleeve. Before he could change his mind, he removed the shirt, grasped the very edge of the sleeve, and jerked his arm back, ripping a section that would place that side of the garment up to his elbow. He then proceeded to tear that into smaller fragments and stuffed them in his ears, prodding the fabric carefully to make sure it would stay in place.

Glancing at the redead to make sure it hadn't moved while he had done this, he raised a hand to his right ear and snapped his fingers. The nose failed to penetrate to his eardrums, and he nearly sighed in relief. Luckily, the redead hadn't reacted, either. He checked the other ear, just in case, before slipping his shirt back over his head and giving himself meaningless reassurances.

_You can beat this thing. Just run. Your earplugs will work, you just have to keep running,_ he thought, popping his fingers and rolling his neck in preparation. He took a few deep breaths, holding them in for a few seconds before releasing them. Then, with a cry, he took off.

The redead became a blur in his peripheral vision, its gaping mouth open as it let out a screech. The sound pierced into his mind, despite the earplugs, and he felt fear curl around his spine. The cloth in his ears must have done something, however, for he kept running, pack flopping at his back and sword jiggling up and down ridiculously as he fled.

Several minutes later, he slid to a halt, his breaths heaving out of him in great gasps as he placed his hand on his knees. Sweat drenched his back, making his shirt cling to his thin body, and ran into his eyes, forcing him to blink and wipe it away with a shaking hand. After several moments, he straightened, forcing out a weary sigh, and looked back the way he had come. The barren land held no creeping figures, so he removed the fabric from his ears and faced forward. When he fixed his eyes on what was before him, he sank to the ground, shocked.

He had had no idea what to expect when he came looking for the object that had caused all this madness, but he knew it possessed a great power. It was a black sword, one that in his opinion set the Master Sword to shame, thrust into the ground at 90-degree angle. The hand-guard formed a pair of wings prepared for flight, and the blade itself looked as if it were made of three obsidian diamonds joined to create the effect of a jagged edge. A strange symbol, etched in white and resembling an upside-down Triforce, was placed on the blade just below the hand-guard. The hilt itself was wrapped in black leather, and the boy felt the urge to enclose it within the grasp of his fingers.

Only, he couldn't. In the glassy reflection of the blade, he saw someone who looked just like him smiling, although the grin did not hint at amusement. Instead, it held malice and cruelty. Death raved madly in his likeness's eyes, and the boy shuddered. Darkness crept into his vision, and before he faded from consciousness, the eyes seemed to wink at him mischievously, changing shades from his own blue to deep brown until they weren't even his at all...

* * *

The sword felt a tremor, like a stone thrown in still water. The ripples expanded in his fading mind for the first time in centuries, awakening him to his surroundings. Although he could not see as humans do, he could observe the outside world through the reflection upon his surface, and proceeded to do so then.

With a shock traveling up whatever served as his spine, the sword felt a flare of recognition. A boy, possibly in his late teenage years, lay crumpled before the sword. His hair was a dirty blonde, although that could have been caused by actual grime. His eyes were closed, as if sleeping, and his pointed ears and fair skin, slightly tanned from days in the sun, gave way to his Hylian ancestry. His clothes were threadbare, as if he had traveled a long way in one set, and a pack was set on his back using two strings that also drew it closed. The sword noted the weapon he bore with a mental snort of disgust. As far as the sword could tell, the boy still lived; his chest rose and fell steadily, and air escaped his lips every second or so.

However, he could not get over the similarities between this child and the warrior from his faded memories. It hurt to remember the sky-child, but there was no way he could avoid it while staring at the being that appeared in his forgotten place of isolation. He had fought a boy, teased and longed to possess, someone who bore an unmistakeable resemblance to the helpless figure before him, although there was no way the child he knew still lived; too much time had passed. The sword so very much wanted to call to the boy, touch him, hear his name, but the weapon was too weak to do anything of the sort. The sword, physically, was very dangerous, but the mental essence barely had any control over that power, at least not anymore.

Nothing could be done now. He could not move in his current state, nor could he interact with the boy until they made physical contact. It would simply have wait until the child woke.

_Sky-child..._ As the word passed through his mind, he was sucked into the world of his memories. Staring at the boy had awakened things he would rather leave alone, and so he drew aside from the physical world and sought the relief of his own decaying mind, hopefully away from thoughts of sky-children and their kind.

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**OMG, what will happen next?**

**I hope you all enjoyed reading this! Please Review!**

**-SeascapeMural**


	3. Awake

Pain lanced in the boy's head, and he groaned. He became aware of the rest of his body shortly after, and his muscles shook from fatigue and dehydration as he sat up slowly, placing his hand against his aching brow. Fumbling, he reached for his pack; his efforts, although clumsy, were rewarded by the glint of sunlight off the cool metal of his canteen. He drank until his thirst was quenched, and it was only then that he mustered enough courage to examine the sword.

Unlike before, nothing stared back at him from its black surface. It seemed to be smudged with charcoal, whereas earlier it had behaved like glass. In fact, the great sword now seemed like a completely ordinary object compared to its earlier display of insanity and rage.

Or had he imagined seeing something like that? He supposed this was possible; he had been exhausted and frightened out of his mind. It was perfectly reasonable to assume that he had reached a state of delirium before falling unconscious.

_Touch it,_ a voice in his mind said, and he realized that he very much desired to... He wanted to feel the leather of the hilt against his skin, stroke the vitreous blade with the tips of his fingers, swing the weapon as if it were an extension of his own limb. It was as if a strangling vine of thought had wrapped itself around his mind and would not let go until he held the sword in his hand.

The boy stood, staggering slightly as every fiber of sinew in his body screamed from from being held in an uncomfortable position for a long period of time. He slowly wrapped his fingers around the hilt, giving a tiny smile as he felt it warm beneath his touch, and grasping it tightly, he drew the black sword from the ground. Clots of hardened soil and skeletal pieces of animals came with it, but the boy ignored this, wiping them away without a second thought. His eyes were only focused on the glistening blade and the return of his reflection, although this one seemed to be true-to-life.

_Hmm..._, he heard a voice whisper, and he swiped his gaze around him for the source. When he saw nothing, he shrugged it off and directed his attentions back to the weapon. _Human. I should have known._ It sounded as if the voice was coming from inside his mind, but that was impossible...

"H-who are y-you?" he stuttered, his voice coming out as a dry rasp. He licked his parched lips, all the blood in his body freezing as he tried to find this new threat.

The voice did not respond for several minutes. He almost thought it had not heard him and was about to repeat his question when it said, _I... am a weapon._

The boy rocked back on his heels, staring down in shock at the sword in his hands. "You mean... You're the sword?"

_Of course,_ it said, sounding irritated. _What else would I be? A flying deku baba?_

"O-o-okay," the boy said, his tone clearly confounded as he tried to understand what the heck was going on. "What should I call you, then?"

It seemed to struggle for several moments, toying with different sounds. None of them seemed to meet its satisfaction, for it sighed and said, _I do not remember. It has been too long since I've been called by a name._

The boy looked surprised, but he supposed the answer made sense. If he had been stuck in the same spot for a long time, all alone, it would be safe to assume he would feel a disconnection between himself and his name. But to forget it completely... It was a terrifying thought.

To distract both himself and the sword, he said, "Who left you here?"

_I did. My master wasn't worthy of my power. I found a quiet place on the Surface to recuperate,_ was the sword's reply. The articulation of the weapon was distracted, as if it wasn't paying attention to what it was saying.

"What's the Surface?_"_ he wondered rhetorically.

_The place beneath the clouds. _The sword's reflection wavered, briefly showing the way things the sword once knew it. An island floated in the sky, separated from the ground below by a thick layer of clouds. The image was replaced by two dark, melancholic eyes that seemed to stare at him contemplatively. _However, I am not concerned with the well-being of the Surface as of yet. What about you? What is your name?_

He still had many more questions to ask but figured it was better to answer the sword's first. "Link."

_Link..._The sword seemed to be tasting the word, surprise coating its voice. If it was possible, it seemed to think in the pause that followed, but continued speaking in a completely neutral tone. _Unless you want to remain here for the rest of eternity, I suggest getting us out of here._

The human child had no idea why he would be stuck here if he didn't leave, but he didn't argue. This place was giving him the creeps, anyways. He could hear low moans coming from somewhere nearby, although he could not identify the source. Almost to himself, he murmured, "Things might get awkward if I'm caught talking to myself back at the village..."

_Let's see if you make that far alive first. Who knows, maybe your blood shall be staining some very lucky rocks later this evening,_ the sword commented, its voice seeming almost pleased at the idea of Link's blood being spilled. _If you do get there, I might have a solution._

* * *

_Link._

It was impossible.

This boy and the one from his memory were almost exactly the same. This new Link was not from the sky – as proven by the boy's confusion at the mention of the Surface – as his Link had been, but the likeness was uncanny.

He had fought to hide his true reaction from Link, but he had nearly come unraveled at the mere mention of the name. Pain, confusion, and lost had poured through him, derailing every thread of sanity that he had struggled to hold on to all these years. Somehow, he had managed to pull himself together, but he felt as if the wounds he had sewn shut were already terrifyingly close to snapping their stitches.

But he would simply have to ignore it. For now, he had a task to focus on: recreating his physical form. He began to collect whatever power within him that would allow his tenuous grasp upon the power that resided in the weapon to implement his plan of action.

* * *

On the way back to the village, Link noticed that the creatures he had encountered previously now kept at a distance. Redeads seemed to be unable to see them, and the few bokoblins he saw either looked the other way or fled at the sight of them. The only solution he could come up with for this behavior was the presence of the forgotten sword, although how someone could forget a weapon like that was beyond him.

He glanced at the sky then, noting how the sun was beginning to near the earth once again. Even with the sword, he wasn't looking forward to spending the night in this cursed place. He felt as if millions of hidden eyes were staring at him, biding their time until he was weak and defenseless.

Shuddering, he remembered the sword's cheerfulness at the mention of his death. What had to be done to a person before they enjoyed the agony of others? Or had the weapon been joking? It was hard from him to tell. He couldn't even tell if the sword was sane; every now and then, he would feel a tendril of thought escape its glossy surface, although they were always jumbled and incoherent. Mentions of a Goddess, and occasionally, his name, seemed to be a consistent theme, although that seemed a close tie with torture-related scenes. Whatever was going on, he was glad he wasn't in the sword's head... If it even had one.

As he walked, Link wondered what the sword's plan was for when they entered Kakariko. It had seemed confident that it had a solution, but if it couldn't remember its name, what was the likelihood that it knew what it was doing? He couldn't find a rational solution, but maybe the weapon had a few tricks up its metaphorical sleeves. After all, it did that cool trick with the image of the sky-islands.

_You can stop here,_ he heard, and he removed the weapon from the space between the strings of his pack. _I will keep watch while you rest. I remember something about you humans needing ridiculous things like that._ The sword's superior tone hinted that this wasn't a negotiable topic.

Sighing, Link stuck the sword point-first in the ground, at the blade's request. This was going to be a long night, he was sure of it.

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**Please review!**

**Silverfang0000: Thank you! :3. I'm pretty excited about it, too, seeing how fast I've been writing this.**

**goddessharp: Thank you so much! You have no idea what your review means to me!**

**Anonymous: XD I will be sure to do so. And please don't die!**

**-SeascapeMural**


	4. Remembered

Link woke to the smell of burning grass and the sound of maniacal laughter. Confused and somewhat concerned for his life, he dragged himself to his feet and looked around for the source of these disturbances.

A host of dead, smoking bugs was piled around the weapon. Occasionally, a live one would skitter by, triggering a beam of sunlight to reflect from the obsidian facet of the blade onto the beetle's shiny surface. Seconds later, the insect would succumb to the heat of the directed rays and die, evoking a round of laughter from the blade's mind.

_About time you woke up,_ the sword said, fading amusement ringing in its tone. It replaced the mirrored rays of sunshine on its surface with the image of those dark brown eyes again, although today they seemed more debonaire than somber. _Shall we continue on towards Kakariko, or do you have another destination in mind?_

Link shook his head in response. "No, just Kakariko Village."

The eyes bounced up and down once, as if the owner were nodding along with his words. _I suppose here is as good a place as any to begin, then._

_Begin what?_ Link wondered. He was about to ask when he felt a slight built-up of pressure, although he couldn't decide whether it felt as if the air was heavy with moisture or like there was something pressing on his brain. Maybe both.

When he next glanced at the weapon, he gave a slight gasp; the thing was pulsing with shadows. It could almost be described as glowing, but the exact opposite, as if it were sucking all the light from the area and releasing it in darkness-charged waves. A weak wind seemed to be coming from it as well, and Link had to squint to see the blade against the rising shades. At one point, he blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, the sword was gone, and in its place was naught but a seemingly random display of multicolored diamonds.

Despite how much the sword had terrified him, he felt sad that it was gone, and definitely upset that it had just left him there. He waited for a few more moments, staring at the spot the weapon used to be, before ,shifting to pick up his pack and go.

"Boo," said a voice, right next to his ear, and he jumped, shivers running up and down his spine as he turned to face... whatever this was. "What, did you think I would just leave you here? You've been so nice to me, helping me leave that awful place after so long, and taking me with you to the nearest town... It would be rude of me not to repay you for your valiant efforts."

The stranger was tall and pale, a section of his hair covering the left side of his face. Despite the whiteness of his hair, he appeared to be in his late twenties, and the deep brown eyes that stared at Link twinkled with familiarity, and his white lips twisted into a smile. His clothing had rhombus patterns cut out of it at regular intervals, and a few pieces of jewelry here and there, plus the splashes of purple around his eyes, made it so that he wasn't just a form of white and gray.

Link sucked in a breath, recognition flaring in his visage. He didn't know how, but he _knew_ this person, even though they'd never met a day in his life. "_Ghirahim_."

The figure's features snapped from pleasurable teasing into what appeared to be rage, insanity flaring in his eyes. Suddenly, he was right up in the boy's face. _"Where did you hear that name?"_

At the abrupt change of attitude, Link flinched, cringing away from the taller being. "I- I don't know."

And then the man was gone, leaving behind what looked like diamonds in his wake. Link whirled around, desperate to catch sight of the strange individual, and spotted him, now several feet away, his chin in his hand and his eyes narrowed in thought. His head was tilted to one side, revealing the black diamond below his left eye and a shortened ear. "This makes things... difficult, _Link_. How did you know my name when I did not?" He didn't wait for a reply, instead flicking his wrist in a get-over-here gesture. "Come."

Hesitantly, Link followed after, every two of his steps matching the man's – Ghirahim's – one. Emotions and thoughts clashed against one another inside him, leaving him feeling dizzy and confused. "Where did the sword go? Where did you come from?" he managed to ask, voicing one of the many inquiries that fought for his attention.

"I am the sword," Ghirahim said shortly, not even glancing sideways at the boy. He seemed focused on something in the distance.

"How did I know your name?... Hey, where are we going?" Link questioned, his words a forced staccato from the bounce of his jogging as he attempted to keep up with the sword spirit.

"Kakariko Village. Now, hush," the former-sword said, sending Link an annoyed glare.

The boy stopped trying to keep up and stood stalk-still, watching Ghirahim continue forward in the lithe pace of an advancing panther upon its prey. When he noticed that the human wasn't following, the sword spirit pivoted to face the human, his eyes narrowed into an irritated countenance, and sighed impatiently. "What is it?"

Utter bewilderment coated Link's features, and when he next spoke, his voice was an octave higher than normal, betraying his distress. "You were the sword.. and now you're not... and then you did that... and went there... and I said that... and I have no idea what's going on right now! Could you please just let me in on what the hell's going on?" Frustration tinged his last comment. Ever since he had encountered the sword, he'd felt like he was losing his mind. The fact that the sword spoke into his mind frightened him, and made him wonder if it could tell what he was thinking; luckily, the weapon didn't give any indication of that kind of power. And how was it possible that he recognized Ghirahim if he'd never met him before? He was certain that, if he'd ever met anyone like the sword spirit, he surely would have remembered the experience. And Ghirahim's erratic behaviors weren't helping him sort all this out at all.

After his outcry of vexation, he noticed a change in expression on Ghirahim's face. It was something akin to sympathy, but he doubted it was as kind. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't know what's going on, either," Ghirahim said, for once his voice lacking the haughty tone of one speaking to an imbecile.

They stood like that for several moments, Link staring at the sword spirit, and Ghirahim staring at the ground between them. He seemed ashamed that he couldn't remember anything, at least not things that were helpful.

Link broke the silence at last, offering a slight smile. "I don't think just standing here's going to help. Maybe someone in the village knows something."

Ghirahim nodded, but muttered something under his breath that sounded very much like, "I doubt it."

* * *

Ghirahim wasn't completely positive as to how he had returned to his human-like form, although he could tell he was definitely not human. By some miracle, his magic had cooperated and not turned him into a pile of mush. But it had been a very close call. He couldn't tell what it was, but something was keeping him from accessing his full power; every time he tried, he felt as if he were ramming into wall of demonsbane. Pain would lance through his mind, tainting his remaining strength until he felt he could no longer twitch even a finger.

The mention of his name had uprooted him, and he had very nearly killed Link in the chaos that had taken over his mind. It was only the terrified look on the boy's face that had held him back; he hadn't seen or felt such a strong emotion in such a long time...

He felt empty, as if his memories hadn't just faded, but had been _taken_ from him. And he knew with a certainty that he would obliterate whoever had done this to him.

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**Please review!**

**How did Link know Ghirahim's name if Ghirahim's been absent for a couple thousand years? Will their relationship go beyond just aquaintances and into something... weirder?**

**Maybe. XD We'll see.**

**-Seascape Mural**


	5. The Lake

Upon returning to Kakariko, the pair restocked on supplies, talked to some locals, and in Ghirahim's case, stubbornly refused to ask for help. He left that job to Link.

A few of the village people seemed surprised to see Link again, especially since he had been gone so long. They chatted with him openly then, seeming to think that if he had made it through the 'Cursed Grounds', he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Their opinion of Ghirahim, however, seemed to be the exact opposite – although he was with Link, he had come from the Cursed Ground. And he was a stranger. Link was a stranger, too, but for some reason they seemed to think he was more relate-able than the arrogant, disdainful sword spirit.

They told the boy about their children, the Gorons that lived on Death Mountain, and rumors they'd heard from other travelers. Th rumors interested him the most; the townspeople mentioned monsters gathering in large quantities and 'strategically' attacking newer villages that had just begun to attract newcomers. The monsters reminded Link of the region around which he'd found Ghirahim, although how organized they seemed to be worried him and conflicted with the connection to the sword spirit. But it was their only lead, and thus necessary to investigate.

Link had been told that the monsters always seemed to retreat towards the Hylian Lake and into the surrounding woods. The pair spent three days traveling, Link eating random berries that they find while Ghirahim ate nothing at all. In fact, he showed a type of revulsion when offered before shaking his head.

They spoke little while actually traveling, although not for lack of effort on Link's part. He could begin to ask the sword spirit questions, and when he received no response, he would go off in his own little tangents, and by the time he realized Ghirahim wasn't listening, he had no idea what he'd spent two or three hours talking about.

At night, however, the sword spirit seemed more receptive.

"If these monsters are organized, what does that mean? I've never heard of anything like that before," Link commented one night, thinking aloud. It was almost like traveling alone, since he always felt like he was talking to the air and Ghirahim just being there made him look not quite to crazy.

To Link's astonishment, his companion replied, "It means there is a being telling them what to do. Most monsters are not intelligent enough to figure out how others think and then react to that. They simply attack whatever they see in a blind rage."

Link mulled that over for a few minutes before nodding and poking a stick into the embers of the nightly fire. "What will we do, then? If they're being told what to do, we probably can't sneak up on them."

"We follow them."

* * *

When they arrived, they decided to wait and watch for when the monsters came out on their own.

After seven days of inactivity, they heard a chorus of shrieking, followed by the braying of several loud horns. Within seconds of these warnings, hundreds of monsters – bokoblins, mostly – roared past, waving whatever weapons they had over their heads, their mouths forming a tidal wave of war cries. Combined with the sound of their stomping feet, they created a terrifying force that would leave most people pissing whatever served as their pants.

At the first sign of the rampaging monsters, Link and Ghirahim hid by a log close to the water, although it was more like Ghirahim pulling Link by the back of his shirt and holding him there. When the monsters were gone, Link tried to jump up and follow after them, only to be stopped by the tight grip Ghirahim had on him, and Link was nearly strangled in the process.

Gasping, Link managed, "Why won't you let me go?" His voice neared a whine, and he stared at the sword spirit with pleading eyes.

Ghirahim glared at the boy, releasing him roughly so that he fell flat on his bottom. "Because I knew you would try to save their victims. With a force that strong, we can do nothing to help them." _Not yet._ "We agreed that we shall wait, and that is exactly what I plan to do. Now sit still." He spoke the command as if to an obedient hound and averted his gaze, turning his attention away from Link in a way that brooked no argument.

Link settled into a seated position sullenly, muttering a few choice words under his breath. However, he knew the sword spirit was right; if he had tried to fight the monsters, he would not have emerged victorious. The thought was humbling and not exactly one that he appreciated.

The silence between them was broken by the returning wails of bokoblins and the moans of a few dead hands dragging their victims behind them. Many held glinting pieces of jewelry, along with the odd weapon. A few were nursing wounds but were soon left behind, for the mock-army seemed to care little for the weak and maimed.

When all but the dead and dying, few as they were, for the village that they had attacked had not held up much of a fight, were gone, Ghirahim and Link appeared from their hiding place, the boy keeping a careful distance in case Ghirahim decided to make a grab for his clothing again. "_Now_ can we go?" Link asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

As usual, there was no reply. Instead, Ghirahim was already trudging ahead, leaving Link to straggle after like a lost puppy. He glared grudgingly at his companion's back, beginning to hate how he was consistently being ignored. He knew he shouldn't take it to heart; Ghirahim had had little communication up until recently. For all Link knew, the sword spirit had no idea how to keep a conversation going.

The boy soon forgot his misgivings and made sure to stay close to Ghirahim as he noticed their surrounds. A few meters after entering the trees, the remaining sunlight seemed to fade away, as if the shadows were leeching off and destroying anything with vitality. The trees themselves were mutilated and twisted in strange angles, and without the sustenance of the sun's rays, they seemed to have found a substitute in the darkness, taking on a deep cast of gray that made them appear both dying and menacing. Several had snarling faces carved into the bark, plausibly something the bokoblins found amusing.

Abruptly, Ghirahim paused in his tracks, and Link, having been paying more attention to the threatening but supposedly harmless plant-life, stumbled into him unceremoniously. He mumbled an apology as he tried to peer over the other's shoulder, only to be thwarted by their height differences and Ghirahim's immobility. "What is it?"

"Look and see," the former-sword murmured, stepping sideways nimbly. Despite this agility, his fists were clenched tight at his sides, and a flicker of fury danced in his eyes. Curious, Link stepped forward and peeked around. When what he saw registered in his mind, he emitted a choking sound, strain making his throat close up.

Bokoblins of all colors stood before them, staring at the pair sedately. Their shear numbers alone made fright clutch Link's heart. As if by some unspoken command, they stepped away, forming clear path. A second later, he felt the jabbing of cold steel at his back. Glancing behind him, he saw even more of the monsters closing off the only course for escape. When the prodding continued, he trudged forward with resignation heavy in each step. Ghirahim followed soon after, although the boy noticed that his gaze wasn't focused on those around him; he seemed to be intent on something in the distance.

They walked for what seemed like hours, although with how hard his heart was hammering in his chest, it was probably only a matter of minutes. Blood leaked from a few cuts on his legs and back, although he didn't feel any of it. Fear made him numb to his surroundings, and he hardly noticed when the shadows began to retreat.

When he looked up next, his eyes rested on what appeared to be a throne made of vines and ivy, the plants curling into an elegant and intricate design. What really drew his attention, however, was the person seated in it.

"It's about time you two showed. You've been rude to keep me waiting," he said, his voice teasing. He was reclined in the chair with one elbow placed on an armrest, his fingers absently toying with his hair and his other hand resting near his hip. His left foot was on his right knee, showing his ease. But what disturbed Link the most wasn't the fact that he was expecting them, or that he had a legion of bokoblins at his command. It was because he was the mirror image of Ghirahim.

* * *

**Thank you all for the reviews! **

**My goodness, writing this is fun. Admittedly, writing this chapter was kind of hard, but the next one I had so much fun with...**

** Hero of the sky: I do too, :3.**

** Silverfang0000: You shall see soon, my darling, you shall see, :D.**

**FatGuy OnFire: XD Maybe you should.**

**OMG THERE ARE TWO GHIRAHIMS. What shall become of them? **

**Please review!**

**-SeascapeMural**


	6. Doubles in the Forest

The döppelganger snapped the fingers of his free hand and disappeared, a reverse shower of diamonds taking his place. He reappeared right in front of Ghirahim, causing Link to flinch. "So you finally decided to show your face," he said, beginning to circle his counterpart. The only difference between them that Link could observe was that this duplicate wore some type of red cloak. His voice even sounded the same, although Link noticed that the döppelganger seemed even more mocking than the Ghirahim he had come to know. "After what you did to our master. And you wonder why we're suffering."

Rage seemed to roll off Ghirahim in waves, although he remained motionless, his eyes the only things that followed his counterpart's movements. "And who are you to tell me about myself?" he asked, his voice a forced calm.

The other chortled maliciously. "Why, I'm you. Or you're me. Except I'm better. I _remember_ what you did. And you have no idea." He laughed again, the sound sending shivers up Link's spine. Who _was_ this guy?

Seeing the confused look on Link's face, the duplicate smiled. "I am a memory, sky-child. But I won't be much longer. Not once I absorb him." He gestured to the real Ghirahim. "Once I do that, _I'll _be the one that is truly alive. Of course, one could argue that I am more alive than he is." Another circuit around Ghirahim. "After all, I'm the one who remembers why everything went wrong. Of course _he_ doesn't. He's just a shell."

"_What went wrong?"_ Ghirahim growled, no longer disguising his fury.

"Don't you remember? Oh, that's right, you _can't_. Hopefully you can recall our great master, Demise. Before he was locked in that prison of his, he cursed us. That if we were ever to betray him, we would pay. He didn't specify, but... it's evident now what he did to us. Especially since you left him defenseless." The memory sneered. "But I would never do that. I'm the perfect weapon, while you're just an outdated model. Things have changed, and you haven't. I-"

"He isn't a sky-child," Ghirahim said abruptly, derailing the döppelganger's train of thought. "He looks like him, but he isn't. You would know if you had been paying attention." The sword spirit snapped the fingers of his right hand and, in a haze of diamonds, conjured a broadsword. He caught it deftly, examining the blade with the practiced eye of one used to being in close contact with weapons. "What did you say about absorbing me? That is an interesting idea. Perhaps I should do that to you, instead." Without warning, he swung the sword at the memory's face, but the weapon went through thin air.

A click sounded behind him, and when Link whirled to look behind them, he saw the döppelganger, and in his hands a pair of curved swords. "Look out!" the boy cried as the double swung both swords crosswise at Ghirahim's exposed back.

But the duplicate wasn't the only with superb reflexes. The sword spirit pivoted swiftly, parrying with his singular blade. He drove his sword between the crossed points of his memory, forcing the döppelganger back. Again, the double disappeared in diamonds, and this time Ghirahim followed him, a snarl of wrath forming on his lips..

The fight continued like that until they were moving and disappearing and clashing swords so quickly that Link couldn't keep up. He would only catch a flare of sparks or a flash of rising diamonds before he lost sight of them again. After a while, he took to watching the surrounding bokoblins, who seemed unperturbed by the sight of their master fighting himself. Instead, they focused their attentions on Link, taking steps forward whenever he tried to subtly move away from them until he was completely surrounded, only half a meter separating him from the nearest bokoblin.

At that moment, he head the whistling of steel slicing through air. His eyes caught the flash of a blade as it arced towards his neck, and having no special abilities nor a weapon of his own, the boy had no other option in the heartbeat between seeing the sword and the second in which it would have made contact with his skin other than to stare at it dumbly.

In an instant, Ghirahim stepped in front of Link, forcing the human to stumble backwards, and caught the blade with his bare hand. Blood poured from the wound, staining his immaculate white glove, but he ignored it, instead grasping the sword more tightly and jerking it towards him. Caught by surprise, the döppelganger followed the momentum of his weapon toward his opponent, his body slamming into the tip of Ghirahim's awaiting sword.

"You sacrificed yourself... for him," the double managed weakly, staring at the sword spirit in disbelief. "Why?"

Ghirahim exhaled loudly, clearly exhausted. "Injuring a hand is hardly a sacrifice. You should know how easily I heal." He visibly straightened and glared down at the memory as if it were a naughty child. "And there is something peculiar about this human. He knew my name. Who could possibly know that, but you and I?"

And then he twisted the blade, the grinding of steel against bone and flesh audible in the silence. The döppelganger gagged, specks of blood fleeing his mouth. "How... could you have possibly won... I've been training for centuries, just for this moment... so I could be the one... to greet... our master..."

Ghirahim froze for an instant and then lunged forward, releasing his grasp on the double's sword and instead filling his mutilated hand with the fabric of the cloak his döppelganger wore. "Demise is still alive? Tell me!" he demanded, the intensity in his voice betraying something more than a need for information. Link could have been mistaken, but it sounded very much like fear.

"Maybe... he is, maybe he... isn't," the double cackled between gasps. "You'll have to... kill me to find... out."

And Ghirahim obliged, removing his sword from his memory's body and swiftly stabbing it in the place the duplicate's heart should have been. The double inhaled one last stuttering breath before his lungs gave out. Within moments, his body had disintegrated into a host of diamonds that flowed gently from the memory to the sword spirit.

Ghirahim let out a sigh, although Link doubted it was from relief. He glanced away from his companion, aware that without the former-weapon he would likely be dead, and noticed the bokoblins staring about themselves in confusion, as if they had no idea why they were all gathered there. Thus far, they did not seem aware of Link and Ghirahim, although it was only a matter of time before the horde noticed the only human amongst them and decided to attack.

He wasn't particularly looking forward to it.

* * *

Ghirahim felt waves of memories fill his psyche. He did not have the time nor the patience to sort through them all now, although a few presented themselves to him none-the-less – a host of recent events, possibly things his döppelganger had done, ran through his mind. He soon found it to be disconcerting, remembering being in two places at the exact same time, and sought to distract himself.

He sensed that these memories, though adequately numbered, were not all of them. A piece of himself was put back together, but many more were still missing. Still, the gaps he could now fill kept the madness at bay.

It had been strange, fighting himself. He had had to think of new strategies, ones he had not used or thought of before, to gain the upper hand, and he still had not been the one to draw first blood. Indeed, the effort of using what little magic he could control to keep up with his double had cost a great strain as well.

However, he did not regret his actions. The stinging in his palm was already beginning to fade, and before long he would only have a scar to remember the wound by. Better yet, with the flow of memories came an extent of control his power, but again, not a complete control. He still felt a resistance, and it annoyed him deeply. Enough so that he felt the need to vent his frustrations in a rather unconventional fashion.

* * *

**Please review! Constructive criticism is always welcome!**

**-SeascapeMural**


	7. The Plan

Hours later, Link found himself to be in some type of hastily constructed hut. Personally, he thought it was about to collapse, and every time the structure creaked under the light touch of the wind, he would brace himself to make a run for the outdoors.

Beside him sat Ghirahim, although he appeared no more chatty than before regaining his memories. Instead, he seemed even more introspective, only speaking to answer Link's occasional question. Otherwise, he did not bother to reacquaint himself with the physical world. He had his feet propped up on a crude table, and in his hand held something that looked like a wine glass, an item the bokoblins had most likely stolen in one of their raids. The glass was half-filled with some type of sour intoxicant, which in Link's opinion was an acquired taste.

"What did you do to get the horde to obey you?" Link asked, curious.

Ghirahim swirled the liquid around in the glass, his eyes following the ripples by his action. "I u– my memory used a type of mind-control, since he had no actual power to enforce his will. I, on the other hand, do have the power, and they can sense it," he stated shortly.

Once the numerous bokoblins had become aware of their surroundings, they had noticed Link and Ghirahim at last. However, instead of attacking as Link had anticipated, a majority of the force had nervously looked at their comrades before attempting to bow. The rest fled, and Link didn't like to think of what happened to them. He had not been forced to watch, but the sheer horror of it had locked his mind so that he could not turn away.

To distract himself from the thought, he asked another question. "Why did your memory need all these monsters in the first place?"

"Pride, mostly," Ghirahim said, his voice brooding. "Long ago, I commanded a force very much like this one. He thought he could do better than me, having a knowledge of my mistakes."_ But he was wrong_.

"Oh." Slight pause. "What were you talking about when you said I look like a... err.. sky-kid?" Link tilted his head, trying to make sure he'd said it right.

"Sky-child," Ghirahim corrected automatically, still regarding the beverage rather than the boy beside him. He seemed to consider this question cautiously, as if he were choosing his words with care. "Before I resurrected by master, I met a human who came from one of the floating sky islands. He was the first human I had seen in hundreds of years, and the only one I had ever fought one-on-one." _The only one who had not run before the mere hint of my master's approach._ "His physical appearance was much like that of your own, and by some sick twist of the Goddess herself, you also share a name." He turned his gaze from the glass in his hand to Link's small frame, his eyes narrowed in thought.

After a long silence, the sword spirit said, his tone all business now, "You may leave on the morrow if it suits you. Since you have no weapon to protect yourself, I shall provide you with one. The bokoblins should not bother you, or they will receive their due." For some reason, what the monsters' due was didn't sound pleasant.

Speechless, Link gaped at him for several minutes, his blue eyes wide with surprise. They stared at one another for several moments, Link full of anxiety and shock and Ghirahim mildly apprehensive and resigned. Finally, the boy found his voice. "What? Why am I leaving?"

"You have helped me adequately enough. I assume you would not like spending much type with my associates," he gestured to the bokoblins scurrying around outside the hut, "and desire to return to your kind."

Link snorted. "I'm good; you're not getting rid of me that easily. Besides, I owe you my life."

* * *

_Fences made of glowing orange diamonds lit up the trees, boxing in the intended victims. Blood arced onto the barriers every few minutes, betraying where the attacker traveled. _

_Even though they were just monsters, beings that humans were taught from birth to fear and kill on sight, he couldn't help but feel a horror at the merciless slaughter of the trapped and basically defenseless bokoblins. They hardly stood a chance._

_Outside the walls, more bokoblins stared, shivering at the sight of their former-comrades being slain. None dared to stop the pale figure in his rampage, and when he looked up at the gathered masses, the cold mercilessness chilled Link to the core. _

_The gaze seemed to flicker with self-awareness at the sight of the boy standing there, watching with disgust coating his young features. In that moment, the barriers surrounding the bokoblins who had chosen to flee melted into a steadily disappearing wave of diamonds. _

_And then Ghirahim was in front of Link, blood dripping from his sword, his eyes shadowed as he raised his weapon..._

Link jerked awake, breaths coming quick and heavy as he sat bolt upright in his makeshift bed. His clothes were plastered to his skin with sweat, and his heart beat wildly in his chest. He blinked rapidly, both to rid the sleep from his eyes and to clear his mind of the dream.

As his bodily functions returned to normal, he leaned back against his pillow. He supposed he should feel lucky that this dream was actually one of his own memories, horrible as it was. In some, a boy just like him fell through the clouds, battled giant, terrifying beasts, slew monster after monster... As cool as they sometimes seemed, he couldn't help but think of what Ghirahim had said about the sky-child named Link... And he couldn't decide if his dreams were because of the sword spirit's words or... well, he didn't know what. It was the same something that had looked at the pale figure for the first time and said, _"Ghirahim."_

He waved the thoughts from his mind and rolled off the bed, noticing with a flicker of surprise a set of new clothes laying rumpled on the floor. His thrashing as he slept had most likely knocked them from their place at the foot of the bed to the ground below.

The tunic was a pleasing shade of green, and it fit perfectly, as did the cream-colored pants. He knew he would have to thank Ghirahim for this gift; the clothes he had worn previously were stained, patched, and frayed from months of travel, and he had long ago worn out all replacements. All he had left from when he'd left home were the boots he wore everywhere, and they had not yet failed him. As he examined his new attire, he thought with humor ringing in his mind, _All I'm missing is a hat._

Once he was dressed, the sword spirit ducked into the hut, wearing the red cloak that the duplicate had worn. In fact, Link thought he _was_ the memory for a split second but then recalled what happened that night with a shiver.

"Good. They fit," Ghirahim commented, examining Link with keen scrutiny. "Those rags you had on were offending to the eyes."

Link rolled his eyes and sat back down on the bed, resting his head in his hand. "What are we doing next?"

Ghirahim sent him a critical gaze. "Nothing, as of yet. We have no leads, and these feeble-minded _creatures_ are no help whatsoever." It was true. At they seemed to know how to do was run screeching at one another and get into fights over the simplest things. And it was getting worse as the days went on; they were growing restless. Additionally, they had told Ghirahim that they didn't know of any of their brethren gathering in large numbers anywhere else. Only here.

"Is there any way you could leave them behind? Or I could go alone," Link suggested, the palm of his right hand tapping his leg as he thought.

"_I do not require a _human's_ help,"_ the sword spirit snapped abruptly, anger flaring in his eyes. The boy flinched, a wounded look flitting across his face at the outburst. Ghirahim glared at Link, his fingers twitching as if he wished to wrap them tightly around something, perhaps the hilt of a weapon or the throat of an individual.

And just as suddenly, his fury was gone, melting away to a soft buzz of irritation that was just enough to make his features tense. As if he had never made the comment, he said, "Perhaps I will drop you off near a town. Stay for a few days."

Link blinked, trying to keep up with his companion's fickle moods. "How will I find you again?" he asked, dazed.

Arrogance flickered into Ghirahim's face once more as he said, "No need," and snapped his fingers, summoning an object to appear before the blonde child. Shaped like a diamond, of course, the thin sheet of black metal gleamed from the light streaming into the hut. It was about three inches tall, two inches across, and reminded Link greatly of Ghirahim's sword form.

Link stared at it for several seconds before reaching up to grasp it between his fingers. "Okay... What is it?" he inquired, running a thumb along the edge of the steel. He jerked his digit back an instant later, hissing softly as a line of crimson ran from a new cut.

The sword spirit's hungry gaze focused on the ruby liquid for a fraction of a second, a satisfied look on his face. "Something I made," he said evasively. "Since it has had a taste of your blood, you won't have to do anything to it. I will know when you are ready to return."

"Uh-huh..."

Ghirahim turned and strode from the hut, calling over his shoulder as he went. "Come. You will have to hold onto me, although actual physical contact would be best." A hint of revulsion was shadowed in his voice, but the boy ignored it.

Link complied, awkwardly placing a digit on the sword spirit's elbow.

And then a he felt it, like a kaleidoscope of thoughts fighting for his attention-

And a sound building behind his ears, making it hard to focus-

And he no longer knew who he was, or what he doing-

And Ghirahim snapped his fingers, sending them to their destination-

But it wasn't a village. It was somewhere else. Some_when_ else.

* * *

**Sorry for being so slow!**

**Every time I get another view, my heart just fills with rainbows, and I can't help but giggle with delight!**

**FatGuy OnFire: XD I'm glad. Perhaps I should listen for this Soup as well... Yay you're my customer! Hopefully I'm serving something new, and if not, at least tasty?**

**meijosui: Thank you so much! And I'm glad it makes sense, :3. Well, he's not normal yet... We're getting there, though.**

**I love you all! Please review!**

**-SeascapeMural**


	8. Demise

Link blinked, not quite understanding the panorama before his eyes.

There were two people, although neither of them could have been human.

One was beautiful, so much so that he found he could not look at her without something inside him burning, and he had to turn away.

The other was the exact contrast, his ugly, scaled features wavering under the flickering of his fiery hair.

They stared at one another, conflicting emotions in both their eyes, and as the beautiful one hesitantly began to stretch out a hand towards the other, as if unsure of what he thought, Link noticed a third party, silent and observant, as if guarding one of the two entities. His hair was white, and his skin was a chocolate brown, reflecting the light in an intricate series of diamonds that covered his whole body. A slash of white diamonds ran from his left should to his right hip, and an iron-tinted object, probably another diamond, poked from his chest. His expressionless eyes were also white, as was a diamond in the center of his forehead. And Link began to wonder...

"Yes, that was me," said a voice, and Link started, whirling around to see Ghirahim watching him, head tilted slightly to one side. He gestured to the two in the middle of the vast room, their arms now wrapped around each other as they whispered things, most likely promises that they would learn they could not keep. "And the woman is the great Goddess Hylia." His voice, which had turned sour at the mention of Hylia, became sad as he continued, "The other was my master, the Demon King Demise."

The other Ghirahim sighed suddenly, his boredom evident. He kept quiet; however, he knew not to disturb his master when he was with his Lady of Light.

He did not approve of the relationship; a Demon King and a Goddess, although a powerful combination, was a mixture destined for disaster. He could understand the desire to tempt fate, to go against what everyone told him just because he could, but this in itself he saw as wrong. A Demon King could not love the light and provide for his people; being a demon in itself involved countless deaths, and the Lady of Light would never allow harm to come to her little pets, the humans. And the favored victims of the demons' source of enjoyment and power. None of the others could provide the vast array of emotions, nor the extremes, that many demons found both fascinating and filling...

"Are those... your thoughts?" Link inquired, staring curiously at the other Ghirahim.

The sword spirit walked around his other self for a minute before answering. "At the time, yes."

"Where are we?"

"Inside one of my memories. Although I should be asking, how did _you_ get here?" Ghirahim disappeared, and his voice carried on from behind Link, forcing him to turn to keep an eye on his companion. "We are two centuries before Hylia exiled the demons from the surface, before Demise decided to destroy her creations."

"What happened? They seem so..." Link struggled for the word to describe his thoughts. Not happy, but... "Content."

"Hylia happened," Ghirahim said, his voice cold, his mouth twisted into a sneer. "She disliked how we demons 'abused' her little humans. But it was simply a circle, one that we had all followed since our own conception, and one that maintained the world in a steady balance of give and take. She didn't like it, though, how her 'children' were losing their lives while we supposedly grew stronger." He became more and more agitated as he spoke, gesturing wildly, and Link began to regret his curiosity. "And then she became romantically involved with my master. She forced him to command us not to harm her subjects, and we faithfully obeyed... Shortly after, many began to die. Most were too weak to withstand the lack of sustenance, but soon even the strongest of us began to fade..."

Hatred sparked in the air around the demon, and as if it were made of glass, the memory began to crack at the seams, pregnant fissures running under Link's feet and through the images before him until he couldn't tell what he was looking at anymore. He felt a roar of sound begin to tear at his ears as the mental construct shattered, revealing a great black emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole.

Before it could, another scene snapped into place with painful clarity, sensations bombarding Link from every direction. The sound of growls, screams, and metal bashing against metal. The smell of burning flesh and accelerated decay and perspiration, heavy in the air from the large mass of bodies – both living and dead – before him. The sight of distant fires approaching from the opposing army, unnecessary in the army from which he held his current position, betrayed the enemy's magnitude. They stretched across the horizon, nearly matching the force Demise had summoned.

Petty monsters crowded the front lines, followed by a mass of dead hands that had already claimed a few of the stupider creatures as their meals. They were flanked by things Link did not have a name for, twisted into grotesque figures that dully exuded power. Behind them were monsters of a different sort, beautiful and elegant, but with a type of insanity festering in their minds, and they cackled gleefully in anticipation of the pain and gory feastings to come. There were untold numbers separating Link from the raging battle, and from the side he knew would hold people of his own kind, not these... fiends. And to the rear of this black force, his dark gaze intent on the movements of the army of his Lady of Light, stood Demise himself, his broad hand wrapped around the hilt of a black sword. He bore the markings of a healing wound upon his forehead, a gash that ran diagonally between his eyes and would later mend into a thick white scar.

Ghirahim, garbed very much like he was in the future, posed beside him, a casual smirk on his face. He radiated confidence, although much of his power was being directed towards the weapon, and Link had the sense that this sword spirit was simply a projection of the real thing, a copy that expressed whatever he was feeling whilst in his weapon form.

"That bitch will regret ever leaving you, Master," the sword said, eyes intent on the black-scaled creature that commanded his every action. "She was a fool to think she didn't need you, and a fool now for thinking she can get whatever she wants out of you-"

"Quiet," Demise snapped, glaring at Ghirahim sharply. The lesser demon flinched, fear and irritability slinking onto his fine features. He opened his his mouth to speak, most likely in protest, when the Demon King raised the sword in his hand and ran a sharp nail down the flat, blunted side of the blade. An ear-splitting screech cut through Ghirahim's protests, and he grasped his chest as if in great physical pain, although there wasn't a scratch on him. With growing horror, Link noticed a thin white line etched into the once-perfect black blade. One that he had not seen when he had pulled the blade from the ground. "I said, quiet," Demise growled, his voice compelling and magisterial, a tone that Link often associated with Ghirahim.

"Yes, Master," the sword wheezed.

"How did he do that? Why? And why did you stick with him?" Link asked, staring at the wounded version of Ghirahim intently.

"He was extremely powerful, and very short-tempered when it came to my... 'short-comings'," the real sword spirit replied, gazing up at his former master. "There was once a point in time in which I liked him, and he treated me as close to an equal as a Demon King can with a weapon. But after Hylia's rejection, he became... this." He gestured to the memory as a whole, as if attempting to describe the war as Demise's need for destruction. "I think you've seen enough." He snapped his fingers.

And they were back... wherever that was.

* * *

**Thank you so much for all the reviews!**

**meijosui: Well, he knows something about Demise now, although not the whole story. And the things about Demise he does know seem to work in Ghira's favor. Ghira's motives are questionable to Ghira. We shall see, XD.**

**Jarith: Oh-ho! I see, :D. I'm glad you like it. I honestly thought about yaoi, because hello, it's Ghira and Link, but I think it would have to go waaaay OOC right now for that to happen. I mean, Ghira's OOC anyways because of his memory-problem, but it'd have to be even more so.**

**FatGuy OnFire: THERE I FIXED IT. HAPPY NOW? Yeah... Can't be helped? I'll take that under consideration. :D**

**Non-existent!Soup: I non-existently laughed so hard at this non-existent review. You have no non-existent idea, XD. RaWrS right back, baby! XD**

**Please review! I'll shower you with diamonds and rainbows!**


	9. Running Blind

Ghirahim flicked away Link's finger from his skin, resisting a shudder of relief. He didn't understand it, but somehow physical contact with the boy had driven them both into the world of his memories. Luckily, the ones they had witnessed were tame, especially compared to the things he found himself randomly remembering as the day wore on. There was a magnitude of untold horrors that he had witnessed, many finding a home and festering until he had later released them through the torment of others.

He glanced at the human child that had accompanied him for the past few weeks, considering. The demon was almost glad Link had decided to continue their journey, for it would surely be easier if he did so by choice and not by some ridiculous amount of force that would not doubt turn the boy against the sword spirit.

However, Link's worth was no longer at Ghirahim's side. The human was much better with people, especially at getting them to trust him, whereas Ghirahim felt an extreme disconnect between himself and any other being. These people that now inhabited the Surface had not lived nearly as long, had not seen the irony of whole empires gutted and destroyed only to be replaced and rebuilt by different people but with similar – if not identical – views to the former rulers. They had never experienced a betrayal that had nearly killed them, only minor petty things that would be forgotten within a matter of months.

And so he was content to leave Link to it, trading gossip that plucked at the demon's nerves to even contemplate.

"Ghirahim?" the boy said, an unfamiliar expression passing across his face. "I'm sorry... about your master... and everything."

The sword spirit looked at him questioningly, one eyebrow raised. "It had nothing to do with you. I chose him as my master, and I paid the price." He couldn't understand why Link bothered; he hadn't even been alive when the former-sword met Demise, much less was able to prevent him from joining forces with the brute. Looking back, he could not decipher why he had gone on such a path, but he did know the answer: despite the abuse, the lack of respect, he had earned one thing that had, at the time, made all else seem insignificant. Power.

"O-okay," Link replied, brow furrowed. After a miniscule pause, he said, "I'll see you soon, I guess."

Ghirahim nodded, watching silently as the boy turned away, before snapping his fingers, a trace of diamonds hinting at his vanishing act.

* * *

The next several days were quite boring, the trivial squabbling of his bokoblins the only distraction from his own thoughts. He soon found himself to be annoyed by their mere presence and thus ordered them to complete tasks that kept them far away from his hearing and line of sight.

He was relieved when he sensed Link's want to return, although he felt fear and desperation accompanying the sensation. Concerned, he traveled to the human's location with haste.

He found himself in a grassy area, not a hint of civilization in sight. The sword spirit almost thought he had ended up in the wrong region when he spotted a blurred shape in green running in his direction. It was definitely Link, although the boy seemed distressed and breathless. When his eyes found Ghirahim, he made a sound that reminded the demon of joy, although the reason why was mystery. Link skidded to a halt, panting heavily, and grabbed onto Ghirahim's arm. "Let's get out of here!" he managed to say, glancing behind him worriedly.

The sword spirit soon saw why Link was in such a hurry: wolfos. A whole pack was on his tail, and without any weapons, the human was defenseless. The demon snapped his fingers just as one of the beasts lunged at the boy's throat, but they were gone, leaving the savage animal to scramble in confusion when its leap ended without a single taste of raw flesh.

Back at the lakeside camp, Link collapsed in a heap, exhaustion etched into his features.

"Why were you being chased by wolfos, in the first place?" Ghirahim inquired, staring down at the boy with mild amusement. In hindsight, he probably should have provided a weapon for Link in case of emergencies, but he had assumed, and apparently wrongly so, that the human child could stay out of trouble for a few days.

Somewhat recovered, Link sighed, blinking tiredly at Ghirahim. "Kinda a long story." When the sword spirit made no attempt to move, he continued, "Short version is, the village you left me at was being attacked by those wolfos. A couple of the men were trying to fight them off, but they didn't have enough manpower. So I volunteered to lead them away." He shrugged and laid back on the grass, his limbs spread wide and his eyes closing serenely.

"Hmm," the demon said, wondering if it was a bit more complicated than that. The boy must have made a very convincing target to get a whole pack of the animals to give up on their siege of the village. He decided not to dwell on it for much longer, since Link didn't seem too worried about it. "Any rumors that you heard suit your fancy?"

"M-hm," the boy replied, opening one eye to focus on Ghirahim. "I asked about other places having monster troubles, and a couple of the villagers told me someone else had been asking the same thing. They said he was one of those weird desert people, and he wore a lot of strange jewelry." He shifted in the grass, bringing one hand to rest behind his head, presumably to obtain a level of comfort. "Oh, and they said they told this guy about Zora Waterfall. Apparently they've also been having monster problems, although those things haven't exactly been attacking anything like your bokoblins were."

"So someone else is looking for the same incidents we are?" the sword spirit asked, the beginnings of a frown making his angular features tense.

Link nodded, yawning widely.

"Either he wants figure out why they are occurring, or he already knows something about them." If this person knew something about the weapon's stolen memories, Ghirahim was certain he wanted to meet him. "We're going this Zora Waterfall, then."

"Now?" Link asked, startled. As if he actually had anything better planned, Ghirahim mentally snorted.

"Of course." The sword spirit raised his hand to snap his fingers, then paused, realization dawning on his features. "Where are these Zoras, anyways?"

They might just end up having to walk again, after all.

* * *

Link listened to the river roaring beside them, finding a comfort in the sound. He enjoyed dipping his fingers into the refreshing liquid, and on occasion, kicking the surface to watch the arc of spray his action created.

His companion wasn't quite so cheerful, but then again he wasn't necessarily _un_happy. The understanding that more than just people had changed since his fall from grace had left him feeling unsettled, although Link had no way of knowing that. He simply thought the demon's new-found curiosity was a phase, like his moments of calm, insanity, and even kindness.

His questions varied, from what were prominent features of the land to the location of large towns. He received descriptions of the Great Deku Tree, Hyrule Marketplace, and Gerudo Valley. Upon mention of such places, he would in turn recount places as they were when he had roamed the land alone, searching for ways to resurrect his undeserving master. He rendered images clearly with his words, detailing features that, although similar to the present, were starkly different; a blazing volcano that erupted regularly was matched with the less volatile Death Mountain, and the harsh suns and gritty sands of the Lanayru region were fitted with Gerudo Valley. Faron was marked off as the Kokiri children's realm, although Hylia Lake didn't seem to fit this idea at all.

Talk like this blazed the path to the Zoras, and the pair quickly found themselves before the great crashing waterfall that served as the divider between the humans and the ranks of the amphibious Zoras. Link admired the twin winding paths of land that rose before the great rush of water, a feeling of peace resonating deep inside him.

"That's where the Hero of Time supposedly played a tune to be let in the Zoras' Realm," he said, pointing to what looked questionably like a vent at the top of one of these paths. "Now, though, traders are let through as they please."

Ghirahim stared at the spot for a second or two. "We haven't passed a single monster. Not even a deku baba. Did you notice?"

Link thought back, suddenly aware of the lack of enemies. "You're right. Did the villagers tell me wrong?" He felt a sense of panic, both at the idea that they had been betrayed, and at the suggestion that this journey had all been a trap.

"They did not," yelled a voice from behind, and the companions turned, looking up at the source. It was a man with bright orange hair, a jewel placed in the center of his forehead, presumably to signify power, but Link sensed it was to cover up some disfigurement. "I've already taken care of the problem. See? Here's our little culprit." And the man held up a squirming child, its age around 5 years old. When it caught sight of Ghirahim and Link, it began to wail loudly, fat tears welling in its big brown eyes and running down its pale face. Its white hair was matted and partially stained with dirt, and its clothing was ragged and in need of replacement. "Our little boy Ghira here summoned some mean monsters, and now he has to pay the price."

* * *

**Thank you all so much!**

**meijosui: My thoughts exactly. I was like, "Uh... even demons don't want to kill an entire species for no reason..." So, now they have one, XD. I hadn't really thought of the Demise thing before. We shall see, :D.**

**FatGuy OnFire: *hands a rainbow ingredient for your soup* XD. I'm not too sure he appreciates it... **

**Soup: I truely am sorry that you're being forced, but isn't this an indicator that you SHOULD play Skyward Sword? I mean, it's inspired so many fanfics that it must be worth some of your time. Please? For Ghira? XD**

**increak96: Thank you for all the reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying the ride, and I certainly hope you continue to. Ironically, I've been reading some of your stuff latey, and I found myself giggling while reading "Busy Boy". I'm only on chapter 11, but... I'm a fast reader.**

**Also, guys, I would appreciate suggestions for reading material on here. Anything with Ghirahim would be awesome, especially if it's funny. And I was reading this Dark Link fanfic the other day that's pretty good, too... Anyways, I look forward to reading your stuff!**

**And if you have any ideas, any AT ALL for the way you would like this story to go, or the way you think it's going, let me know! I have a plan, but we'll see how well I stick to it in the coming chapters. XD.**

**-SeascapeMural**


	10. Called Out in the Dark

Link glanced between the child and the demon, looking for a resemblance. Sure the kid had white hair, but that didn't mean he was a younger version of the sword spirit. "Is he serious?" the boy whispered, noting Ghirahim's shocked expression.

"Unfortunately, yes," Ghirahim said grimly, his mouth becoming a thin line in his displeasure. "I can feel my mind teasing at the memories that the child holds."

Link nodded and followed his gaze. "Hey, you!" he called suddenly, a wave of bravery making him ignore his fear. "Who're you, and why are you hurting that kid?"

The man laughed, apparently finding some sort of amusement in the boy's statement. "I'm surprised you should ask. I'm Ganondorf, the first male Gerudo in a thousand years. And this is payback." He paused, smiling, and the look on his face reminded Link of the malice from his reflection in Ghirahim's blade. "Your friend over there knows what I'm talking about. I'm just returning the favor."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," the sword spirit replied, his eyes narrowing into a glare. Despite this, his tone was playful. "After all, we have just met."

"It was a long time ago. Remember, your master died because of you. And now you'll pay." Ganondorf held up the tyke again, as if this was proof of his words.

Ghirahim examined the fingertips of his glove, feigning boredom. "I don't see how." His patience was waning, and he let out an irritated sigh. He let this vexation guide him as he plucked a pair of rapiers out of a sudden rush of diamonds and handed one to Link, keeping the other for himself. "Give us the child, and we shall let you live."

The stranger chuckled. "Oh, I'm giving you the kid, don't you worry. But not before I do _this_." He pulled what looked like a knife from some hidden pocket and stabbed it into the 5-year-old's side, earning a blood-curling scream. "Maybe next time you'll remember who's blade you really are. Find me then." Removing the blade swiftly, he dropped his burden over the edge toward the wild waters of the river below and fled, not once looking back.

Link dropped his blade and ran as fast as he could, arms outstretched. He just barely managed to grasp onto the little boy's arm before they hit the water. He felt the rapids tug at him fiercely, and then they were both pulled under, carried against their will away from the waterfall and the demon, who had made an attempt to follow after Ganondorf only to spot his younger self and the boy floundering under the assault of the water. Link felt his consciousness fade as freezing liquid pulsed into his lungs, suffocating him...

* * *

He sputtered, coughing up gallon after gallon of water until he was dry-heaving, his body refusing to believe that he was free of death yet. Squinting, he managed to pick out the grass and rocks beneath him, and beside him was a small, pale shape that was curled up into a ball, a bright red substance forming a pool around it.

An instant later, he snapped back to reality, and the creature beside him suddenly made sense. _Ghirahim's younger self._ He sat up, coughing one last time, and scooted closer to the child, feeling an ache beginning to form all over his body. He felt like he'd been smashed against a thousand pieces of rocks repeatedly, and he probably had, considering his ride down the river. But the child had to feel worse; not only had he been subjected to will of the river, he had been stabbed, as well.

Link rolled the child so that he could examine the wound, the miniature Ghirahim not even putting up a fight. The child looked utterly exhausted, and he didn't even seem to have the energy to cry as he silently watched Link go about trying to stop the bleeding. While trying to be gentle, the human boy knew he had to apply pressure. But without the help of a doctor or even a dealer of magic, the likelihood of survival was low...

Memory spiked in Link's mind, and he used one hand to fumble around in his pockets, keeping the other tight on the child's wound. After a few moments of unsuccessful searching, he pulled out the dark steel of the small diamond. The boy ran his fingers over it, trying to figure out how it worked. Last time, he hadn't had to even mess with it, but now he had no idea where he was... And he wasn't afraid for his own life.

As a last resort, for he felt a little stupid yelling at thin air, he yelled, "Ghirahim! I could use some help now! GHIRAHIM!" When nothing happened, he slammed his fist into the ground in frustration, forgetting the object in his grasp. He felt pain course through his hand and raised it to find several cuts along his fingers, each dripping blood steadily. "Great," Link muttered, a sense of helplessness wrapping itself around him.

"Link?" the demon's voice called, echoing slightly, as if he were in a contained space. "Where are you?" The volume made it appear that he was right next to the pair, but he was obviously no where in sight.

The boy sat bolt upright, looking around as wildly as he could without jostling the child. "Ghirahim! We're over here!"

Sounding annoyed, the sword spirit's voice said, "If I knew where 'here' was, I wouldn't be asking. That diamond I gave you is like a... communicator. Now, I will ask one more time. Where are you?"

Link glanced at the little diamond again once more, wondering what else it could do, before for the first time looking around to observe their surroundings. Tall stone walls lined the opposite side of the river, a few vines of ivy creeping upwards in pursuit of sunlight. What looked like a drawbridge was pulled up and away from him, guaranteeing no help from whoever was on the other side. "Err, we're either by Hyrule Marketplace, or we somehow got past the grate and are somewhere near Hyrule Castle." _Please hurry..._

"Be right there," the former-sword said.

Ghirahim had followed the length of the river for hours, searching for where it had deposited the boy and his memory. He had even gone all the way back to the lake, but somehow he had missed them.

When he had felt Link's blood coat that small piece of himself he had given the human, he felt something, as if a great pressure was slowly being lifted off his chest. Perhaps he was feeling worry... But he would not have to much longer, for the human child and his memory would be with him again soon.

He didn't bother snapping, for it would be a waste of dramatic effort if no one was there to see it, and appeared at one of the two locations Link had mentioned. _Not the Marketplace, then... The castle.._. He felt a touch of dread at the thought, but he had no idea why. There was nothing he knew of to fear there, or at least nothing he could remember. And this time he did snap, more out of habit than anything.

He was rewarded with the sight of Link, his blue-eyed gaze focusing on the smaller being in front of him. Upon Ghirahim's arrival, he glanced up, relief making his shoulders relax, releasing the tensions that had built there. "Hurry," the human said, strain continually evident in his voice. "He's still bleeding."

Ghirahim stepped forward swiftly, prying Link's hands aside to view the damage. The child sighed when he felt the elder version of himself near, although the demon had no way of knowing why. The stabbing the child previously received had injured several internal organs, and he had lost a lot of blood. Focusing his will, the sword spirit thought of repairing, of reversing what had happened to his smaller self, of what the child had looked like before that insolent fiend called Ganondorf had stuck a knife inside him, and snapped his fingers.

Both Link and Ghirahim sat back when the wound was sealed closed with a flow of miniature diamonds, although the demon only relaxed when the little boy opened his dark-brown eyes to stare at the pair solemnly. They closed again within several seconds, and the soft sound of deep, even breathing reached the sword spirit's ears. His younger self was sleeping, and the sight made his lips twitch upward for an instant.

"Time to go," he whispered and carefully pulled the child into his arms, not wanting to disturb him. Link held on to Ghirahim's arm once more, and they were gone.

* * *

A Castle Guard rounded the corner at that very moment, watching in shock as two people and what looked like a bundle of rags disappeared in thin air, leaving behind a cluster of diamonds. There was no other explanation than magic, and if there was some type of magician near the castle, evading detection and running when others came, then he or she must be up to something. In any case, it was the guard's duty to protect the royalty from harm, and these two might pose as a threat.

He raced back to the guardhouse, spinning exaggerated tales of an evil magician bent on destroying the King and his precious daughter, Princess Zelda.

* * *

**Thank you all so much! Your support keeps me going.**

**... Admittedly, I have a slight problem. I have one of two ways to go with this and child-Ghirahim, and I can't seem to decide which to go with. So I need you guys to tell me what you want. Should the Ghira-child have been a human who somehow became Mr. Fabulousity, or should he have been a sword spirit from the start? I can see things going nicely either way... It's the decision that's killing me. So, please review and tell me what you think!**

**meijosui: As in Demise actually talking to Ganondorf? Or something else. I'm kind of intrigued by this idea, so if you would like to elaborate (besides reviewing, XD), feel free to PM me!**

**FatGuy OnFire: XD, Ghirahim says your Soup is definitely fabulous. Not necessarily a baby, but.. we'll see.**

**increak96: I'm glad you're enjoying the show, my darlink. And yes, Ghira-child is terribly adorable... *cuddles with Ghira-child***

**Please review!**

**-SeascapeMural**


	11. The Kill

Ghirahim stood just outside the little hut he had assigned to his memory, allowing the child to sleep for a while longer. Link was somewhere else in the camp, and though the demon could have located him easily, he found no reason to disturb the human, especially after their discussion an hour or two before.

The sword spirit watched the serene face of his younger self as he slumbered, wondering if he had actually looked like that once upon a time. Of course he had, but it was difficult to imagine, thousands of years after his childhood. He did not remember anything before becoming Demise's weapon, and now it seemed certain that he had been something very different previous to that life. It begged the question as to how he had become the Dark Master Sword...

The child probably held the answers to these inquiries. Based on past experience, the demon would have to destroy his memory to take it, but that in itself posed little difficulties. He had not really thought it through until Link had asked.

"What're you gonna do with him?" the boy had asked, curious as always. When Ghirahim had not replied, Link blurted, "You can't kill him! It's wrong, and... he's just a kid..."

The demon waited another beat before saying, "It must seem to you that I do not have many moral qualms about dealing death, and in general I do not. However, I find myself agreeing with you, although for different reasons. Despite this, I see no other way to go about returning him to within my memories other than to kill him."

"Then why did you save him in the first place?" Link said, incredulous.

Ghirahim considered the question carefully, his eyes straying from the human to the child resting. "I sense that I must be the one to kill him, not some ruffian who thinks himself special because he knows things about my past. If he was murmured by another, I suppose the memories that reside within him would simply die, and I cannot allow for that to happen."

The boy seemed unsatisfied with the way the conversation was going, ad and Ghirahim hoped he could at least see the demon's point. Before he could find out, the human had turned away, leaving Ghirahim where he was now, observing his smaller self.

The sword spirit returned his attention to the present as the child shifted in his sleep. With a slight shock, the demon realized that although essentially the same person, they looked nearly nothing alike. He could see how Link had been skeptical; while they shared the dark eyes, white hair and black diamond upon their left cheek, his younger self had two whole ears. He was not so nearly as pale as he would come to be, and his alabaster hair was as cut short, barely touching his ears... If it weren't for the fact that he could feel a connection between them, he almost wouldn't be able to believe that this being was what he had once been.

He sneaked closer, eyes intent on the child's small form. He was curious; was his miniature double a sword spirit, like he was, or was he a mere human? His fingers were prepared to snap as he concentrated on removing illusions – his pale skin and somewhat human countenance were definitely not real, simply a facade that was to disguise from others the fact that he was, indeed, a sword spirit. Using the illusion did in fact weaken him, since he spent a certain amount of concentration on maintaining it, although by now it was an unconscious effort.

His fingers clicked together, and to both his surprise and delight, the child's pale skin peeled away in a trickle of his signature diamonds, revealing the chocolate-brown reality below. He was very much like the present Ghirahim's true humanoid form, although he lacked the white diamond markings, and his skin appeared smooth, not fragmented repeatedly into smaller and smaller diamonds, as his elder's was.

"What are you doing?" asked an angry voice, and the absorption in his examination snapped. He straightened, turning a glare to whoever it was who had interrupted him. Link. "You're not gonna kill him right away, are you?" the boy continued, but his voice faltered as he got a good look at the child. "What... what did you do to him?"

Ghirahim continued to glare for a few more moments, but it seemed to be having no affect. Upon thinking that, he returned his attentions to the object of Link's gaze. "I revealed his true form. It isn't as complicated as my own, but power doesn't come to the young on its own. You have to earn it."

"So... you were always a sword spirit?" Link asked, no longer appearing to be angry. He seemed more curious than upset at present.

"Apparently so," Ghirahim said, amused by the boy's behavior. "Although I doubt he has the same sword form I currently do." There was a way to find out, although he was not willing to submit his younger self to that without express permission. He knew how it felt to have the sword part of himself ripped forcibly from his body, and although he had laughed during the experience, it had pained him deeply.

"Now," the sword spirit said, snapping his fingers. A small jeweled dagger appeared, spinning lazily as it floated in a halo of red light. "Unless you would like to watch, I suggest that you leave while I... take care of this."

* * *

Link had been almost mesmerized by the view of the young sword spirit, but the sight of the blade brought him back to his purpose. "No! You can't," he said weakly, attempting to make a grab for the dagger. It danced out of his reach, almost as if it were mocking him, and seemed to focus on the gunmetal-gray diamond on the child's chest.

Annoyance flickered across Ghirahim's features, and his tone was icy as he said, "You had no objections when I killed my last memory. Why would you? He was intent on ending your life. But now that a memory takes on the face of a child, you can't let me kill it." He leaned closer to the human, the intensity in his eyes making Link flinch back. "It's an illusion, _boy_. You're protecting something that doesn't exist in the physical world. Now get out." The demon turned his back to Link and bent over, his hand reaching for the memory as he muttered something under his breath.

Link glared hatefully at the segments of Ghirahim's red cloak. He couldn't do anything to stop the sword spirit, and even though he knew Ghirahim was right, to kill the child just felt... wrong, somehow. "You're a monster," the human managed to snarl angrily. He turned and left before he could see Ghirahim's reaction, immediately feeling a wave of guilt as he regretted uttering those three words. It wasn't the sword spirit's fault... And they were his memories. So why did Link feel this way?

* * *

Word spread quickly of the evil magician and his green-garbed companion. Villages that Link had visited became frightened of his return and cursed his name. They requested more Royal guards to protect them against this new boogeyman, and fliers with the pair's descriptions circulated throughout the kingdom. Over the light of traveling fire, tales of the Hero of Time were replaced by idle rumors of the pair that became more and more elaborate and unrealistic, the threat of an unforeseen attack creating a near-paralyzing fear.

In a corner of the world, a certain jewel-crowned sorcerer laughed as the terror spread. And this time, he hadn't even had to twitch a finger.

* * *

**This chapter fought me all the way until the end. Link didn't want to cooperate, and Ghirahim certainly did not. That and I got distracted by the urge to write a TF:P Starscream fanfic (hasn't worked out so far D:). But the next chapter's going a bit easier. Yay!**

**FatGuy OnFire: Of course not! He is shown not snapping at least three times in the game, although admittedly that's when he's waving his sword around after each encounter. I have a feeling you'll like how I'm doing the sword spirit memories. Just saying, ;D. *is mesmerized by rainbow soup* I'm sorry to hear about your Wii, D:. Soup has no idea what he's missing. Good luck to you, my lady. *bows***

**meijosui: I have enjoyed our conversation greatly, :D. Yeah, I also wanted not to kill little Ghira-child, but... Ghirahim said he had to die. So... *shrugs helplessly* XD, I hadn't realized it until you said that, but Link_ is_ sort of stuck in a twisted soap opera. And Ganondorf DEFINITELY needs to learn respect, agreement there.**

**Iubire: You'll see what he looks like, I promise. :D**

**increak96: Well, here's some more! And please, let's share the Ghira-child. He's too cute to keep to ourselves. XD**

**Comments, questions, concerns? Please review! I love you guys! (I mean it, people. There is love. XD)**

**-SeascapeMural**


	12. Somewhere I Belong

**I would just like to warn you that this chapter isn't exactly like the ones previous... And rather than rambling on, as I have a tendency to, I present you with the 12th chapter of Sword of Memories. I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

I was brought into this world as a pair. She was the light to my darkness, the balm to my anger, the grace to my ineptitude. She was the favorite of the Goddess and our fellow spirits, and I became shrouded in jealousy. Although that did not happen until after...

We were the first sword spirits born in 5000 years. They said it was a miracle that we even lived, and our twin spirits were a blessing to them all.

Our blades were perfect mirrors, only contrasting in color and sharpness. Our hand-guards were the wings of a pair of birds in flight, me a deep onyx mixed with the tang of copper, she a blue and purple partnership. Her sword, although undeniably affective, was not as eager to draw blood as mine own. Nearly every blow that my wielder landed summoned a gush of crimson liquid from his or her foe.

For the first century of our lives, we were kept from the 'plague' of humanity. Our elders were afraid of corruption in our young minds, as had happened before with other spirits. The extinction of our people was imminent because of said putrefaction, and this threat kept us in line and away from the human beings who sought to use our power.

As was such, we spent the few several decades of our lives only wielding each others' blades. We laughed and played and as long as we were together, acting as a singular will, we could not hurt the other.

We were nearing our two-hundredth Existence Day, still young and naïve in both our elders' and our own eyes, when the other spirits decided it was time to drive us apart. We must go our separate ways, they said, make our own paths, find our own destinies. An we were not allowed to be together.

We had never been out of the others' sight, and it had wounded me badly not to have her near me. I felt as if half of my soul was missing, and with each breath I took, the pain felt as if it would strangle me. I can only imagine that she felt similarly.

I remember it as the first time of thinking of myself as an individual. I realized that I did not even have anything to call myself by, that I had always been recognized as a set, a half of the twin spirits. We had never been given names, and so I gave myself one then and there, still angry at the elder spirits for doing this to us. I was Ghira. Later in life, I would complete the name into something longer and more dignified, but in that moment, Ghira was who I was and who I would continue to be.

My fellow spirits told me that I must find a purpose in life, that I must leave the confines of my home and venture into the world of the humans, those that we had been warned against since our beginning. I was frightened, and for the first time in my life, I was alone. I blamed the spirits I had grown up trusting for my predicament; my partner-in-soul and I would have remained together for eternity if not for them. And, perhaps, if we had stayed together, things might not have gone so badly. For either of us.

I wandered the world of man for some time, observing their lifestyles, habits, routines, everything about them. They fascinated me to no end, and I could not see what the elders had been so afraid of, all those years ago.

And then I witnessed my first human death. When I was with my twin, we had seen one spirit die, but he had eons upon eons of life that he had experienced and enjoyed. These humans, however, only lived for fifty years, sometimes less and sometimes more. The rate at which they aged shocked me, for at 216 years, I was still in the body of a child. I almost did not understand what was happening.

When one of my kind dies, their body eternally becomes their weapon; they lose the consciousness and the power that make our species so special. After a time, the now-normal blade rusts, rejoining the earth. But humans just leave behind an empty shell that is of no use of anyone but a decaying reminder. It's no wonder they bury or burn their dead.

After that, I saw many deaths, not all of them peaceful. Humans were slaughtered by one another, by roaming things called by most as monsters, and by accidents that sent them to their graves ahead of their time.

At first, my meanderings were for observation, and I found no urge to participate in human affairs. However, all the humans seemed to recognize me as a spirit, and they were constantly seeking my favor. To my shock, many wanted to use me as their weapon in battle. I had never thought of anyone but my partner-in-soul as able to wield my weapon.

Because of these outrageous requests, I sought to disguise myself. I took to practicing illusions that masked the reflect surface of my skin and gave myself eyes that resembled those of a human's so as not to attract unwanted attention. And with these small deceptions came the realization that I was a quick study and had an amazing capability in the field of magic. I found I was able to transport myself to places I had already visited. I could use the power that resided within me to make more weapons besides myself, although these did not possess a soul.

But I quickly realized that my own power wasn't enough. I wanted to be with my twin spirit once more, and I knew my kind would not let me. In fact, I had not heard a single thing about her wandering the land, and I was sure, with a presence as beautiful as her's, that she would be even more talked about than myself.

I began to suspect that the other spirits had not let her roam the human world, and I could only think of one explanation: to keep us apart. They had her locked away, my exquisite opposite, and I would free her, I reasoned. But to do this I had to make the others bow to my will. I did not want to hurt them; although they had caused me harm, I still felt an alignment, a loyalty towards them. So I commenced searching for a source of power greater than my own...

This questing led me to the Demon King Demise, although at the time he was not the King. He was the firstborn and only son of the then-King, Strife.

I did not fully understand alliances between 'good' and 'evil', and although I knew better than to approach King Strife, I did not know the meaning of being a demon, only that in being Strife's son, Demise possessed a great power. He was not an evil demon, only mischievous, and we almost instantly struck up a lasting friendship. And one night, we exchanged a vow that joined our fates forever.

As soon as the bargain was struck, I was changed... My blade was no longer small enough for a human to carry, and it became as black as the darkest of Demise's scales, the edge fragmented into three diamond-shaped segments. My true physical form was given an array of white diamonds, and my skin was no longer smooth. I gained a pair of fangs that I soon found out were trademark in nearly all demons. And that was what I was now – demon and sword spirit. A complex and intimidating combination.

From then on, I was his weapon and guardian, both his to wield alone and to protect him from harm. In return, I gained an immense power, enough to do what I had wished.

At long last, I returned to the realm of the sword spirits, seeking my long-cherished twin spirit. The land was empty, something I had never seen before, and I grew worried. What had happened to my other half? Was she gone, too? What had they done to her in my absence?

I explored the land of my childhood, noting with surprise that it was smaller than I had remembered. I suppose now that it could have been perspective, for I had grown in stature since I was torn from my home, but I suspected it was the lack of the other spirits and my own experience that made it seem diminutive, insignificant in the face of the human realm.

I found her in the center of it all, waiting for me. "Ghirahim," she said, a warm smile lighting on her splendiferous face. She seemed to glow from within, and after all these years, I found the sight of her to be too much. I stood there, taking her in, for a very long time.

Eventually, I managed to speak, although I couldn't seem to find words for what I really wanted to ask her. "Where are our fellow spirits?"

Her features fell into a visage of sadness, and I wondered briefly what about my statement could have possibly upset her. "They sacrificed their collective power to the Goddess in order to fulfill her divine plan."

"And what would this divine plan be?" I asked, my tone carefully neutral.

"Her Grace wishes to balance to the powers of darkness and light, and to do this, she needed a force beyond herself," my counterpart said.

It was about then that I noticed the figure of pure energy behind her. It was another woman, although I felt that she was something beyond us, something pure that I could not be near. It was the Goddess. When I embodied silence, the transcendent being said, "I have chosen Fiala to serve as my weapon, Ghirahim, much as Demise has chosen you." She paused, as if to let me soak this in.

And then it dawned on me. I had spent all these centuries trying to find a way back to my twin spirit – Fiala – when the Goddess had just up and decided that she was the right one for her. Not both of us, not me, _her_. And Fiala had obviously not been searching for me, as if she had known all along where I was, as if she didn't care.

For the first time, I felt rage course through me, sending out wave after wave of dark energy that made my partner-in-soul gasp. I sensed a new emotion, directed at the Goddess herself: hatred. How _dare_ anyone make such a fool out of me. She would pay for this, and Fiala, too.

I didn't wait to hear what else the Goddess had to say, instead leaving them to play their games of light and happiness without me, who Fiala evidently did not need. I found myself at Demise's side, shock and emotional turmoil forcing me to the ground. All the enchantments I had about myself shattered at that moment, and I found myself feeling vulnerable and exposed in my true form, even though in reality I was now at my strongest.

Although concern touched his eyes, Demise smiled down at my prostrate form with something like pride. "So you've felt it."

I stared up at him in confusion, wondering what could possibly be good in a situation like this. "What?"

"The betrayal. Until a demon has felt that, he isn't considered worthy of having his full power unleashed." The Demon Prince looked almost sheepish at that, glancing around nervously.

"Have you felt it?" I asked, more to distract myself than out of any true curiosity.

Demise glanced around once more before holding a scaled finger up to his lips and smiling impishly. "Not yet. But I will. Once I'm King." _If not before,_ his words hinted.

I had no doubt that he would. I just had no idea that his would be with the Goddess I now hated, Hylia.

* * *

Ghirahim groaned slightly as the weight of another few thousands years' memories unlocked inside his head. It had all flashed before his eyes in a matter of seconds. _Another piece of the puzzle put in place._ But there was something more that he was missing...

* * *

"A purpose..." The blonde-haired girl stared out at the world from her position of her balcony. It was one of her favorite places, for it provided a view of the sky and of the land she would someday rule.

Startled, a palace guard jumped to attention at her words. "What was that, Princess Zelda?"

The girl turned to face him, one hand still resting on the stone barrier that separated her from the ground below. "Nothing, Sir Ned," she said, her bright blue eyes sparkling with a cheerfulness she didn't feel. "Nothing, at all."

* * *

**Every time I see a new review, I giggle like a madwoman. Not to say that I'm not crazy... Maybe a little? XD**

**increak96: Well, hopefully a look into Ghira-child's mind helped to ease your pain at the memory's passing. He is so adorable...**

**FatGuy OnFire: I certainly hope I lived up to your expectations with this chapter. And, if I get around to it and find it within my limited skill to do so, I might attempt to draw the little Ghira-child.**

**meijosui: Ghirahim says there's no way Link can think logically. Because he's a human... or something like that. XD. Poor Link and his Hero frame of mind. It's no problem, I'm still so happy that you choose to review in the first place!**

**I would like to note that, now that I have a part-time job, I won't be able to write as often. Not to say that I won't, just that things might be... slower that they have been.**

**I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it! All reviews are greatly appreciated!**

**-SeascapeMural**


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